


Styles and Pies

by Slythstiel



Series: Hate to Love Destiel! [2]
Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Castiel, Castiel is a Jerk, Castiel is snow white, Cliche, Cute, Deans conflicted, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Forced Marriage, Funny, I know, I promise it's good, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Mary Winchester bakes pie, My First Destiel Fanfic, Rimming, Smut, Top Dean, dean really hates Cas, idk - Freeform, it turns into love soon, its finished!!, its not even that bad, its supposed to be cute, no smut until the last chapter, oh well, rlly cute, sam is a chubby child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-10 00:26:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2003766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slythstiel/pseuds/Slythstiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meet Dean.<br/>He's late.<br/>Now meet Castiel.<br/>Who is the reason Dean is late.<br/>And is also his boss.<br/>Castiel is a major jerk.<br/>Dean really doesn't like him.<br/>Then why is Dean proposing?<br/>Wait, what?</p><p>He goes back inside after a few minutes, eyes glued to the menu at the front of the order station – he really doesn't see Dean turn to get up, well, maybe because he isn't watching, and there is a moment of pause before Castiel feels the entire area of his stomach shiver with chill. <br/>It is, in fact, Dean's stupid milkshake, currently spreading slowly in a horrible mess of brown. Chocolate. <br/>Castiel fucking hates chocolate.<br/>He grimaces, and god if he had a gun he would've shot Dean at least 6 times by now. <br/>Speaking of Dean, the fucker is a sputtering mess of apologies and snickers as he wads a bunch of napkins, pressing them against Castiel's shirt. <br/>The milkshake drips from the shirt in a steady stream, some catching on his pants, and the other pattering on his shoes.<br/>Castiel clenches his jaw, closing his eyes. </p><p> </p><p>Completed + Epilogue ~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dean's Late

**Author's Note:**

  * For [icebucky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/icebucky/gifts).



> This is based off of the move The Proposal. I will still use some parts of the movie, but this story will be very destiel with my own ideas ;*

Dean runs.  
He barely grazes past the woman in the black suit, tipping the coffee in his hand, but not by much.  
His mind whirs, because no, no he can't be late.  
Castiel will kill him.  
Dean pushes in through the main office building, breathing ragged. But the hot coffee is still in his hand, unharmed, so he smiles triumphantly.  
Dean drops the coffee off in Castiel's office, making a quick stop to the bathroom, checking his hair and suit.  
He leaves the bathroom just in time to meet Castiel, starting their walk to Castiel's office.  
"Good morning, Castiel," he greets, earning a low grumble.  
"Yes, a wonderful morning. Dean, I need you to run over the papers one more time, and see if you can add the part about expanding building area, okay?" Castiel starts, and Dean stifles back a groan, starting his mental checklist.  
"Also, make sure Meg hands in her reports on time, because we need the upper hand here," Castiel fires a few more bullet points, walking at a steady pace.  
His suit, like always, is pressed and tailored to match his body. Not a single fibre looks out of place.  
Castiel Novak, the youngest chief in design in New York. 26 and young, Castiel is not only the smartest, but also the coldest.  
"Yes, I'll make sure to get that done," Dean replies, struggling to keep up with Castiel as he slowly heaves the stack of papers and files from his arms, and into Dean's.  
"Good, and what are you doing this weekend?" Castiel asks, sinking into his leather chair and sipping the coffee.  
Dean shifts the stack into his one arm and scratches the back of his neck, "uh, I'm supposed to head out to my family for my brother's birth –"  
"Oh good, so you can help me review all the final reports before we send them in?" It isn't a question, it's a demand.  
"Yes, yeah of course, I'll just cancel my flight..." He trails off because Castiel isn't listening anymore.  
Instead, he's started typing rapidly at his laptop, brow furrowed.  
Sighing, Dean heads out and back to his office, in the room next to Castiel's.  
Annoyed, Dean drops the stack onto his desk, listening to the hard thump of his work today with disdain.  
He slouches, letting his head slam onto the desk, feeling the keyboard of his computer under his forehead.  
The phone rings, dragging Dean out of his pit of self misery. He picks up, holding in a sigh, "Castiel Novak's office, what can I do for you today?"

It's almost lunch time when Dean walks into Castiel's office again.  
He's holding a thick file, looking skittish as always.  
"What?" Castiel says, not sparing Dean another glance.  
"Meg's report, and Mr. Roman wants to see you?" Dean tells Castiel, who looks up immediately.  
"This can't be good," he mutters under his breath, but quickly wipes the look of hesitation from his face. No, he can't be seen like that, especially not in front of his assistant.  
"Okay, I'm going to go see him, watch my phone," Castiel states coolly, getting up and fixing his tie.  
Castiel leaves the room without a second glance, heading into Mr. Roman's office.  
"Ah, Mr. Novak!" Mr. Roman smiled, gesturing to the chair. Castiel shook his head, feet planted firmly on the floor.  
"Mr. Roman?" Castiel says with uncertainty, and Mr. Roman laughs.  
"We need to talk, Castiel," he says and Castiel nods.  
"We wanted to promote you," he starts and Castiel feels his face break into a smile. Abruptly, he stops, wanted?  
"But you see, in order to be promoted to senior chief in design, you must be over 30," Mr. Roman continues and Castiel feels his heart sink.  
"The only other way is to be married to a legal, US citizen,"  
Mr. Roman ponders, "we're going to have to give the promotion to Mrs. Milton, she's the only one in this building with remotely enough experience as you,"  
Immediately, Castiel scrunches his nose, that smug Anna? She will get the promotion, and not Castiel? Because she is married? To a douche who likes to smoke near the building, but married no less.  
Castiel struggles to keep his face straight, "but, I, – I worked so hard you can't possibly just –"  
The door creaks open, and in walks an awkward Dean.  
"Uh, Castiel, the man on the phone said it was really important," he's still standing, obviously uncomfortable with having interrupted such an important meeting.  
Castiel feels the gears in his head turn, whirling with thoughts that form into a single idea.  
"Uh, I haven't, I haven't given you the good news yet, Mr. Roman," Castiel shoots a weak smile, walking towards Dean.  
"We – uh, we're getting married," he quips, reaching on his tiptoes and tentatively patting Dean on the shoulder.  
"Wait, who's getting married?" Dean smiles too, but only because Castiel is.  
"Us, uhm, uh us sugar, uh, sugar pie!" Castiel forces out a laugh, pulling Dean closer, and down to his height.  
Mr. Roman looks at Dean, and then Castiel, "congratulations!" He grins, ruffling the papers on his desk.  
"Just get everything finalized and you've got yourself a promotion!"  
They leave the office, Castiel's hand wrapped crookedly around Dean's arm.  
The employees shoot Dean and Castiel odd looks, but Castiel glares, and they all turn back to their computers.  
Inside his office, Castiel whips his arm away from Dean in distaste.  
"Castiel! Um, sir, what the hell?" Dean runs a frustrated hand through his hair.  
Castiel just sighs, "of course we can file for a divorce in a month or so," he rubs his chin, blinking.  
"Wait, what if I don't want to marry you!" Dean looks truly distressed, but Castiel can't care less. He needs the promotion.  
"Listen to me, Dean," Castiel punctuates, "if you don't marry me, I swear to god I will ruin your career, and your stupid dreams of going into engineering will be shattered, along with all the hard work you did these past 3 years,"  
Dean looks furious, anger flickering through his eyes. But he doesn't say anything, and it makes Castiel bite his lip to hold in the smug smile.  
"Fine," Dean spits, loosening his tie.  
Castiel shoves the sleeves of his suit jacket up to his elbows, immediately rumpling the delicate fabric.  
Dean looks surprised, "really?"  
"What? I'm stressed," Castiel grumbles, rubbing his eyes.  
"Now propose," he demands, and Dean stares.  
"We can't get married if you don't propose," Castiel huffs, feeling like he's explaining this to a child.  
Dean doesn't say anything, instead, he grabs a pencil from Castiel's desk.  
He bows down onto one knee, losing his balance momentarily.  
"Castiel, will you marry me?" He hisses through clenched teeth, holding out the pencil.  
Castiel rolls his eyes, planting his hands on his hips.  
"Less like you want to stab me with the fucking pencil," Castiel smirks, shedding the infuriatingly hot suit jacket.  
The silk shirt feels much cooler now.  
"Fine, Castiel, oh the light of my life, my honey cream pie of joy and happiness, will you marry me?" Dean barely finishes without looking like he's holding back physical pain.  
Castiel taps his foot, contemplating, "fine,"  
Relieved, Dean stands up, and slides the pencil behind Castiel's ear, fingers brushing the sensitive part of his lobe.  
He inhales sharply, waiting for Dean to move away before letting out another breath.  
"Okay, you're dismissed."  
Without another word, Dean leaves, glad to escape the devil's cage.


	2. Fucking Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is, in fact, Dean's stupid milkshake, currently spreading slowly in a horrible mess of brown. Chocolate.   
> Castiel fucking hates chocolate.  
> He grimaces, and god if he had a gun he would've shot Dean at least 6 times by now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAYAYAYAYYAY!!!!!

Castiel waits.   
Dean is already late.   
He's supposed to be here, so they can go to the fucking diner and eat the fucking dinner so Dean can take Castiel home and they can think everything they need to take care of.   
"What the fuck, Dean?" Castiel huffs out, glaring.   
Dean just shrugs, holding the door open for Castiel.   
Once outside, Castiel realizes Dean's changed clothes. Gone is his suit. Instead, he's wearing a plaid shirt unbuttoned over a black tee and worn jeans. He's still wearing the leather dress shoes, and his hair is still neatly styled, but it's different.   
Very different.   
Castiel however, is still donning his creamy silk shirt and tie, followed by his dress pants and shoes. But his hair is messed up, horribly and the shirt is crumpling in places, sleeves pushed up to his elbows and tie loose and crooked.   
"We're taking my car," Dean informs him, Castiel just shakes his head.  
They walk over, crossing the parking lot littered with only a few cars.  
"Fine, where are we going to eat? I'm so starved!" He exclaims, immediately flopping into the soft upholstered seat of Dean's car.   
"We're going to a diner," Dean states, pulling out of the parking lot. The sky is slowly losing blue, becoming a meld of inky purples and hazy orange instead.  
They drive in awkward silence to the diner, Dean's radio blaring classics from the 80s.  
He's humming, Castiel notices, his brows relaxed and a bare smile ghosting over his lips.  
"How old are you, Dean?" Castiel asks, clicking his tongue.   
Dean looks over when they stop at the red light, "you actually don't know?" He snorts, and Castiel just rolls his eyes.   
"I'm 27,"  
"Really? I'm 26."  
"I know,"  
"You know?"  
"Um, I've been working for you the last 3 and a half years, I know plenty,"  
Castiel feels something flicker inside him. The fact that Dean knows everything infuriates him. He suppresses a sigh and buries the feeling deep. He doesn't need to hate Dean more than he already does.   
They get to the diner, picking a booth in the back. It's a small crowded place, and Castiel already hates it. Tight places frighten him, a lot. The prospect of being trapped in a place with limited breathing air and space. But he doesn't say anything, he can't. Dean doesn't know, no one knows. It's not like it's been a problem before, so there isn't any need to mention it.   
The waitress comes by, taking their orders — Dean's double cheeseburger and milkshake and Castiel's French fries and diet soda.   
"Okay, what do you know about me," Castiel fiddles with his tie, watching Dean.   
"I know you drink low fat soy milk spice lattes. And that only on Fridays you want a large chocolate chip cookie with it. And, I, uh know that you live alone in eastern downtown. You also hate dogs, and you have a tattoo of Japanese calligraphy on your hip and one on your wrist."  
Castiel looks away but Dean isn't done.   
"I know you really don't like shrimp, and you're allergic to shelled fish. You also don't particularly like Anna Milton," Dean chuckles, and the waitress comes back with the food.  
Dean digs in immediately, but Castiel sits and sips his diet soda. 

Dean almost moans, the burger is so good.   
The waitress comes by again, flitting her lashes in an odd way towards Castiel.   
Something sparks inside Dean and he finds the need to shove her away and pull Castiel out of the joint. He stops eating momentarily to watch Castiel shift slightly, flushing at the waitress' hushed words.   
She's leaned in close to Castiel – who looks even more out of place by the second.   
Dean resists the urge to grab Castiel and bolt, instead, he angrily bites into the burger. He tells himself it's because Castiel is his boss, and he's been helping Castiel — no matter how horrible he is — for a long time.  
He isn't very hungry anymore.   
Instead, he reaches over the table and pulls Castiel's slender hand from where it's awkwardly tapping on the table, towards him. He laces Castiel's fingers with his, sending a sickly sweet smile to the waitress.  
She scoffs and sends Dean a glare, giving Castiel one last pout before strutting away.   
"She looked like she was bothering you," Dean shrugs, only now noticing that he's still holding Castiel's hand, his stupidly long and pale fingers entwined with his. Castiel's ears are tinted pink so Dean coughs, pulling away. 

Castiel tugs uncomfortably at the collar of his shirt, feeling the sweat bead at his hairline.   
God, it's so hot.  
He dips a fry in hot sauce, biting in. It should taste good, but the booth is so damn suffocating it feels like a pile of grease and oil in his mouth.  
Castiel doesn't say anything for the rest of the dinner, choosing to gulp down the soda and order another, not touching the fries.  
"I'm gonna step out for a minute," he says finally, eager to leave the heat of the diner. It's full of smells of food, and it churns in his gut.   
Dean looks mildly confused but nods, opting to finish off his burger instead.  
Outside, Castiel focuses on inhaling and exhaling deeply. The smell of cars and greasy foods isn't exactly good, but the air is cool and fresh.  
He goes back inside after a few minutes, eyes glued to the menu at the front of the order station – he really doesn't see Dean turn to get up, well, maybe because he isn't watching, and there is a moment of pause before Castiel feels the entire area of his stomach shiver with chill.   
It is, in fact, Dean's stupid milkshake, currently spreading slowly in a horrible mess of brown. Chocolate.   
Castiel fucking hates chocolate.  
He grimaces, and god if he had a gun he would've shot Dean at least 6 times by now.   
Speaking of Dean, the fucker is a sputtering mess of apologies and snickers as he wads a bunch of napkins, pressing them against Castiel's shirt.   
The milkshake drips from the shirt in a steady stream, some catching on his pants, and the other pattering on his shoes.  
Castiel clenches his jaw, closing his eyes.   
Find a happy place, Novak, find a happy place, he tells himself, his conscience playing it like a broken record.  
There isn't a single place he wants to be aside from punching Dean's lights out so he raises one tight fist to stop Dean.   
"Just, leave it," his voice is clipped and Dean looks slightly concerned.   
"Uh, don't worry, maybe we should go?" He suggests sheepishly, signaling for a waitress.   
Originally, Castiel was very much capable of paying his own bill, but the cold, clammy feeling on his stomach makes it almost impossible to reach into his pants pocket and pull out his wallet.   
So he lets Dean pay, leaving a fat tip and an apology for the mess.   
Castiel fights a groan, running a hand through his hair, something tells him spending anymore time with Dean could end up hazardous.


	3. Poised and Prim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AH. I just wanna say thanks to everyone on IG who helped me come up with some ideas ;**

Dean blinks.   
The silence in the car is slowly thickening, the sheer awkwardness is making the ride home quiet.   
Castiel is burning holes into Dean's dashboard, tension creasing his forehead.   
The shirt.   
The damn shirt.   
"I'm sorry, uh, Castiel," Dean says honestly after a while.   
Castiel stays silent, so Dean just stops trying and parks outside his apartment building complex.   
It's 3 big buildings, side by side.   
Castiel and him walk into the third building, greeting the cranky man in the lobby before stepping into the elevator.   
It's late so the 6th floor — Dean's floor — is silent and empty.  
Once inside the apartment, Dean sighs. It's messy, standard living. The coffee table is littered with takeout containers and magazines. The kitchen is bare, and the rest of the place is okay.   
Castiel looks observant, but says nothing.   
"Uh, I'll get you some clothes," Dean stumbles over a shoe in his way as he heads to his room.   
He figures Castiel is smaller than him, so Dean pulls out a pair of sweatpants and a shirt he outgrew. The heating in his apartment had broken a while back, so Dean pulls out a pair of clean socks as well as a pair of unused boxers from his drawer.  
His rich, slightly bitchy, overly critical boss is literally in his living room and Dean is lending him his own clothes.   
He flushes, Castiel probably isn't impressed. But he fights all urges to run to a Calvin Klein outlet and spend all his money on clothes. Instead, he shuffles back into the living room, where Castiel is sitting.  
"Uh, here." He hands Castiel the clothes, who takes them, eyes flickering to meet Dean's in a hard look.  
"Thank you," he says simply, and heads to the bathroom. Dean feels awkward after Castiel is gone, because really, he should've gone and at least pointed out where the bathroom was.   
He sighs, his boss is going to have a heart attack when he sees the mess of the bathroom.   
Dean vaguely remembers being late this morning, his hair gel had spilled, the bottle had tipped, taking his hair brush, and toothpaste clattering to the ground.   
He remembers not picking them up, which is a major embarrassment now. But Dean shakes his head, propping his feet up and turning the TV on. Dean hears the shower turn on, the steady thrum of water against tile is loud enough for him to hear.   
He winces, rubbing a hand through the short crop of his hair.  
He's halfway through the Cake Boss episode when Castiel comes back in.   
He looks different, very different. Dean is surprised. Eyebrow raised, and mouth parted, Castiel looks relaxed.   
"What are you staring at?" Castiel's voice snaps him out of his ogling.   
"Uhm, uh, nothing," Desn stammers out.   
Castiel's hair, his fucking ebony hair is damp and tousled. It sticks up in every way possible, strands falling over his forehead.  
The shirt is still too big on Castiel, it makes Dean think. He's either too big, or Castiel is just, small.   
The collar dips, hanging over the smooth planes on his collarbones.  
Dean's sweatpants hang loosely over Castiel's hips. The cuffs reach down over his ankles. Dean has always seen Castiel as a sharp, crisp man who wears suits and has perfectly gelled hair.   
But here, he's small, standing almost uncomfortably.   
"Uh, you can come sit!" Dean scoots over, hands in his lap.   
Castiel smiles one sidedly, "thank you, but I have to make a call," he dips his head politely, reaching for his suit jacket. He had left it there before he went to shower.  
Dean sits quietly while Castiel fishes his cell phone out, shuffling out into the hall.

Castiel sighs. He massages his temple with one hand, and calls Ellen.   
"Hello? Cas?"  
"Hello, Ellen," he exhales.  
"Oh! How have you been, sweetie?" He softens, letting a smile slip.   
"I'm fine, Ellen I need a favor,"   
He can practically hear her nod, "shoot,"   
"Uh, the shirt. I need it dry cleaned. One of my employees accidentally spilled some chocolate. Motherfucking chocolate." He growls, words cannot describe his hate for it. Dark and bitter, or sweet and overly sugary. He hates it.   
Ellen laughs, "of course, I'll get Jo to come pick it up from your place tomorrow, okay?"   
"Yeah, okay," he smiles gratefully, "thank you,"  
They talk for just a bit more, Castiel knows it's rude to keep Dean waiting. No matter how infuriating he is.  
So he walks back in, and smiles.   
"Thank you for the shower, Dean. But I have to really head home," he checks the time, it's almost 11.  
"Uh, yeah, yeah of course!" Dean smiles again, a bit more sarcastically this time.  
"Would you like me to drive you?" He asks, getting up and flipping the TV off.   
"No, don't worry about that. I will get a taxi," he states firmly.   
Castiel calls a taxi and spends the rest of time hustling his clothing into a bag.   
He doesn't want to spend more time with Dean. He isn't a bad guy, but he isn't someone who gets along with Castiel.   
Castiel isn't a jerk. Everyone assumes he is. He's sure if he met himself, he would've though he was a jerk too.   
But the world is irritating. Everyone is so full and haughty, is nauseates him.   
Dean is just like them, another nauseating barrier in his life.  
But Castiel isn't going to deal with that anymore.  
He's going to get married, and divorce.   
Maybe then he can be wholly rid of the infuriatingly handsome Dean Winchester.


	4. Castiel's Late

Maybe it's the fact that Castiel is really tired. Maybe he's imagining things on the ride home. But he certainly isn't imagining this.   
"Woah there, get out of my apartment!" He has a moment to intake the people in his apartment.   
"I'm sorry sir, but the building is being evacuated for a termite infestation," the pleasant looking woman tells him, and Castiel would appreciate it, if he wasn't so close to ripping his own hair out.   
"What, why?" Castiel asks, feeling helpless.   
There are three guys and two girls, all in navy overalls, and tapping at the walls and feeling the floorboards.   
"The building manager reported an apartment with a big termite problem, and now we're going to take a check of all the apartments. Right now, we suggest you grab a suitcase and arrange to spend the next couple nights at a hotel or a friend's place." She explains, followed by another smile.   
Castiel feels anger and irritation pulse through him and suddenly he wants to punch the stupid smile off of her stupid face.   
But he doesn't.   
Because he's a gentleman.   
Most of the time.  
Castiel just bites his lip and trudges into his room. There are people in there too, and he tries to not let that bother him as he stuffs one of his travel suitcases with necessary items.  
"I fucking hate my life," he spits out, mostly to himself.   
Still in his borrowed clothes, holding a suitcase in one hand and his laptop case in the other, Castiel leaves his apartment.

He ends up at one of the more posh hotels in downtown, sinking into the bed with a sigh.   
His life isn't bad, he's sure. But it isn't getting any better.   
He's marrying his annoying employee. His favorite shirt is ruined. And now his apartment is infested.   
He has to take a moment to look up at the ceiling. The apartment building is huge, odds are it'll take long enough to search the entire building.   
Stifling a groan, Castiel turns and falls face first onto the pillow.  
Sleep, as it is, turns out to be a big challenge.   
The bed is too soft. It sinks under his weight, cocooning him in overwhelming warmth and it feels slightly suffocating. The sheets are silky, and feel more sexual than soothing.  
He's never been one for traveling, he hates it. Not to mention the sea sickness he gets on cruises, car sickness he gets in long trips, and air sickness when he's traveling on a plane. Castiel has come to a conclusion long ago that he is problematic. Part of the reason he's never been much of a dating partner. His sensitivity to 95% of all human activity drove personal trainer Helen away. But he can't forget puking all over Finn, the tour guide who never really came back. All these failures swirl through Castiel's brain, but he doesn't pay much attention. Not caring is what has kept him on the top for this long. He's fine this way, always has been, always will.   
But when he finally gets to sleep, he blinks awake.   
Shit.  
Time flies by rapidly, and it's 6 by the time he's awake.  
Castiel is never late. Never. And he isn't about to let today ruin that for him.   
So he hurries through his shower, and barely manages to dress before he's whizzing out the hotel door.   
He has a meeting with Mr. Clark at 6:30 sharp.  
Castiel's in the elevator to his office by 6:19, chest rising and falling with effort.   
He has somehow escaped traffic, and the unknown hotel room didn't let him sleep much.   
Castiel hesitantly runs a hand through his still damp hair, defeated when it refuses to cooperate.   
He can just barely make his shape out in the sleek elevator door, groaning.   
He looks horrible. There isn't another way to put it.   
Why is his life so horrible? He's successful enough in the office, but everyone hates him and so does his hair.   
There isn't any time for self pity though, Castiel smooths the wrinkles on his shirt, noticing a lapel is sticking out of his dress pants.   
But there isn't any time to fix it in the elevator, it dings.   
If he wasn't so embarrassed, Castiel is so sure he would've fired every single employee staring at him as he tries to get to his office as fast as he can. His face burns, but he has some dignity. Right? So as soon as he's in his office, he locks the door, breathing a sigh of relief.   
Too soon.   
"Good morning, Castiel!" It's Dean, bright and cheery. Of course it is. Dean is the only one who's supposed to be in his office before him.  
"Shut up, Dean, not right now," he sucks in a breath of air.   
He sets his suit jacket sloppily over his chair, sinking into the familiar, buttery leather.   
"Woah there, hubby you're not looking too good." Dean laughs at his own joke, eyeing Castiel with amusement.   
"Seriously, Dean. I have a meeting in," he pauses and checks his watch, "6 minutes, so unless you can help, get out," he says wearily.   
Dean just laughs, "I can help, sir," he informs, gesturing for Castiel to get up.   
He's too tired to care, so he pushes his body up.   
"Your shirt," Dean walks closer to Castiel, setting the coffee he is holding, down.   
Dean looks proper and clean, like always.   
Castiel stops breathing for a moment, breath hitching as Dean slides one hand into his pants, against his hipbone to tuck the stray lapel in.  
Dean's much closer than Castiel remembers a few seconds ago.   
It's just embarrassing, because Dean's hand is right over his hipbone, and Castiel has to fight the urge to lean forward and get Dean to just, rub.  
"Uh, and y-you're tie is upside...down," Dean looks slightly distracted as he pulls his hand away, opting to reach for the upside down tie.  
His fingers work deftly, brushing over Castiel's collarbone. He remembers not buttoning it up all the way.   
This definitely isn't what Castiel wants. His heart is thudding wildly, as Dean furrows his eyebrows in concentration.   
"Cas, your hair," Dean pulls away rather nervously, and wait, when did he become Cas?   
It's Castiel, always has been, up until now at least.   
But he doesn't mind, oddly enough. It's nice.   
Dean's fingers brush through his hair, pushing the damp strands around to give them a semi neat look. Castiel squints, Dean has so many freckles. He's never noticed before, but hundreds litter the bridge of his nose, dusting his cheeks with a pink tint.  
Dean is so, so close. All he has to do is tip his head up, and Dean's lips will touc–  
Castiel rips away from Dean's body like he's on fire.   
"I, uh, the meeting," he mutters distractedly, grabbing the suit jacket and making a beeline out of his office.


	5. Bad Decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I'm going to make these chapters super long okay bc I don't like it super short argh

Dean feels like dirt right now. Red, embarrassed dirt. Like the kind in a baseball game, the one that stains all the whites and forms clouds of dirt no one likes.  
Great.   
He practically scared away his boss, after all, who gets that close and touches everywhere?   
But this is Castiel Novak.   
And he can probably get Dean arrested for breathing the same air as him, but getting that close into physical interaction?   
Of course he ran away.   
He made the Chief in Design of Wayward Star Enterprises run away from him. Actually run.   
That's a mildly concerning thought.

But he just bangs around Castiel's office until he doesn't feel like red dirt anymore, heading back into his office grimly.   
Instead, he tries to focus on how shitty Castiel looks today. Of course he isn't going to tell him that, that wouldn't be nice. And also, Dean is just really, really scared of him.  
His hair is completely messed up, and his suit looks like it has been handled by a monkey.  
Dean uses his hand to massage his forehead, and he can be lying right now if he isn't slightly worried.   
That, and he's a terrible liar.   
With a sigh, he tries to get back to work, eyes gravitating away from his computer and towards the conference room right in front of his office.  
He sighs, and almost half an hour later, Castiel bursts into his office.   
Now, Castiel is a very precise, neat person. And Dean is kind of amazed at what a sleepless night can do to a person.   
"I'm crashing here for an hour or so, I want some coffee, okay?" He grumbles out, and all Dean can do is nod.   
"Uh, okay?"   
Castiel just snorts, falling face first onto the couch against the wall in Dean's office. It's used for many of Castiel's clients, so they can sit while Dean politely tells them Mr. Novak is much too busy at this time, and they can try for an appointment.   
Castiel's breath has already evened out by the time Dean comes back with a coffee.   
It's a shame, really, Castiel actually looks so peaceful. Breathing slow and eyes shut, Dean can't see the coldness in his eyes. But he pokes him awake anyway.   
"Coffee," he says, putting down the hot drink by the table and flopping down in his office chair.   
Castiel looks around groggily, blinking like a sleepy kitten before he reaches for the hot coffee.   
He sips slowly, and Dean tries not to watch him, and instead, files through the reports on his computer.  
"So," Dean clears his throat, "why are you tired?"   
Castiel stares up with an expressionless face before before he sighs, "termite infestation in my apartment building. The hotel bed is not good on me,"   
Dean raises an eyebrow, "how uncomfortable can your bed be? You're like, a bajillionaire!"  
Castiel shakes his head, "real mature,"  
Dean laughs, "okay, okay, sorry,"   
Castiel just gulps down more of the coffee and continues to mutter under his breath.   
Dean likes to consider himself a wise person, but he knows inside that he's just as wise as a drunk monkey.   
Perhaps that's why he doesn't think when he says, "you can stay at my place until your apartment is okay,"   
Castiel looks up, narrowing his eyes.   
"Thank you for the offer, but I believe it's best for me to stay at my hotel," he presses his lips in a thin line.   
"Are you sure? I don't mind,"  
He regrets that as soon as it leaves his mouth, because yes, yes he does mind, he minds a lot!   
Dean can't back away now, as much as he would love to get away. Who knows how long Castiel's apartment will be infested. And Dean needs the weekend alone, and not with his horribly attractive boss.   
"Yeah, uh, okay, yeah, that sounds good," comes the hesitant reply.   
Oh, Dean is so screwed.


	6. Kiss Him Like a Man!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Kiss him, Dean." Charlie quips out of no where, and Castiel suddenly has a large intake of the water he is oh so gracefully sipping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ick this is kinda late and short. Idk I thought I could write longer chapters but I really really can't oops -.-

It's Thursday.   
A wet, rainy Thursday.   
Castiel isn't enjoying it, frankly. Dean offered to let him stay with him while his apartment was being taken care of, and Castiel had said yes.   
He doesn't know why though, he isn't keen on spending time with Dean.   
But he figures he might as well, Dean is his fiancée.  
By lunch he's all better. The coffee Dean gave him earlier is helpful, and with another few cups, Castiel is back to himself.   
"Dean, seriously, get Meg to hurry up and give me my report or I will chop off your balls," he laments, slightly energetic.   
Dean just scribbles as much of Castiel's orders as he can before dashing out.   
Castiel massages at his temples, unbuttoning the top of his dress shirt. He'd let the his suit jacket crumple on the floor in Dean's office, but he's glad he did. The humidity in the air is almost unbreathable, Cas wrinkles his nose.  
He picks up the corded phone from his desk, pressing his assistant's speed dial.   
"Dean?"  
"Yeah, Cas?"  
"I need air in here, it's fucking killing me," he takes a moment to regulate his breathing.   
The phone line clicks and Castiel knows Dean is on his way.   
Dean's good to him. He knows that. But he isn't good to Dean. That, he hasn't figured out yet.  
It's not that he does it on purpose, it just, happens.  
Within minutes, the door opens. It isn't Dean, in fact, it's Jo.   
Jo doesn't bother knocking, and swiftly plops herself on his chair.   
Jo Harvelle is Cas' best friend. It's odd, they don't mix. She's bright and friendly, Castiel is glum and sarcastic. Jo drinks cinnamon lattes and Cas drinks pumpkin spice. She's into hanging out with as many of the employees here, and Cas can't get away from them fast enough.   
But he's known her since they were 10.   
"Hey, Cas," she pipes up, taking a sip of his coffee, face screwing up at the bitterness.   
"Hello, Jo," he sighs, Jo isn't getting up anytime soon so he takes the chair on the opposite side of his desk.   
Jo throws her hair back, "listen, I'm heading out with a few of my friends, and you're coming," she informs him.   
"No," he resists immediately.   
Castiel Novak doesn't take orders from anyone. Everyone takes orders from him.   
Except Jo Harvelle.   
"Cas, I am so serious," she frowns, "you have to come. And bring that boy toy of yours too," she adds with a smile.   
"Which by the way, congratulations on your engagement!" She jumps up with a squeal, pulling him into a hug.   
Cas can't help the smile, despite the fact that it isn't a real engagement.  
"Thank you, Jo," he hugs her back tightly, smiling into her hair.  
After it's apparent that he isn't off the hook, Cas agrees to meet them with Dean at the restaurant by the bay.   
Jo leaves excitedly and Dean walks in, as if on cue, fan in hand.   
"Sorry it took so long, had to go all the way to the main level storage room," Dean explains quickly, out of breath as he fumbles to plug the fan on behind Castiel's desk.   
He pulls it as far as the cable can go, setting it on Cas' desk.   
"There," satisfied, Dean pulls away and grins at Dean.   
"Thanks, Dean," Cas sighs in relief, the cool air jets out through the fan, into the room and towards him.   
"Oh, and we're going out to some shitty restaurant with Jo and her idiotic friends," he says quickly, hoping it goes unnoticed.   
It doesn't.   
Dean blinks, and stares.   
"No way!" Comes the reply.  
"Please?" This is the first time Cas is going to say that to Dean. First and last.   
Dean stares, "what?"   
"Please," Cas repeats.  
"What?"   
"Please, Dean!" He says again, beginning to get annoyed.   
"What?" Dean looks like he doesn't hear him.   
"Plea–" he stops, eyes deadpan as he looks towards Dean.   
Dean looks fairly proud of himself, grinning.  
"3 and a half, never forgetting," Dean says and Cas groans, slapping him gently on the shoulder.  
"Get out," he gulps his lukewarm coffee down, pointing to the door.   
"Don't I get a kiss?" Dean chuckles, and Cas resorts to pushing him out.   
"Never," he informs him, shutting the door.  
The rest of the day passes by fine, and soon, Jo shows up at his office, which is, apparently, the rendezvous point.   
It's Dean, Charlie – the technical producer, Chuck – the head in stability of product, and Kevin – the newbie.   
Jo looks fairly proud of this little group, but all these people are making Cas uncomfortable.   
"Okay, seriously, you guys have to try the ravioli there, it's so good!" Charlie rambles on as they leave the building.   
Castiel almost throws up. Ravioli is nasty.   
"Castiel, how's the promotion?" Chuck asks him, clearly just as shying away as him.   
Cas looks up, "maybe around the end of the month," he shrugs, "soon, hopefully."  
It leads to Jo bubbling praise for how amazing Castiel is at his job, and Dean listens intently.   
They decide on taking Dean and Castiel's cars, Jo, and Chuck in Cas' car, and Charlie and Kevin with Dean.  
The restaurant, as it seems, is an urban classy kind of place.   
Sage.   
Castiel parks up front, in front of the sign that reads the word Sage elegantly.   
Dean parks a few spaces away, and they all get out.   
"I hate public spaces," Kevin mutters, mostly to himself but Castiel laughs anyway.  
He coughs to cover it up and they all walk in.   
It's warm and gently lit inside, and there's crowded tables everywhere. As the time hits 6 o'clock, more people trickle in and they barely manage to find a table.   
It's a tight fit, Jo on one side of Cas, Dean on the other. Chuck and Charlie sit around Kevin, who sits right in front of Cas.   
"Hi, welcome to Sage, my name is George, and I'll be your waiter today. Here are your menus and I'll be out in a few minutes to take your orders," George, the handsome, dark skinned waiter says. He hands out the menus, throwing another smile towards them before walking away.   
Kevin and Chuck seem to be getting along fine, huddling close as they decide their orders. Dean as it turns out, it long time friends with Charlie, who is turns his back on Cas to talk to. But Castiel's okay with that, Jo leans in close and grins.   
"Ravioli, Cas?" She giggles and he makes a choking noise.   
"Fine, I want the chicken Alfredo, take the beef stew and we can share," she sums it up quickly and Cas goes along with it.   
"Yeah, only if we get the white wine," he informs her and they pull away just as the waiter comes back.   
Kevin orders the vegetable lasagna, Chuck with the smoked salmon, Charlie and Dean with ravioli and Cas and Jo order the chicken Alfredo and beef stew.   
George takes the orders, and for wine, Castiel pipes up before anyone can change the order.   
"White," he says quickly, "please." He adds.  
George nods and walks away, leaving them to start chattering. Jo and Charlie immediately bring up the engagement, "you guys are getting married, why are you acting like wooden blocks?" Jo is only joking, but Cas shakes his head at the irony of how right she is.   
"Kiss him, Dean." Charlie quips out of no where, and Castiel suddenly has a large intake of the water he is oh so gracefully sipping.   
Dean's hand reaches out immediately to his back, rubbing circles as Castiel chokes on the water in his trachea.   
"Kiss, now?" He manages to say, face red.   
Kevin and Chuck look concerned, but Jo is stifling back laughter and Dean and Charlie just stare.   
"Yes, now, Castiel," Jo looks at him with that look and he's so done.   
"Uh, come, come here d-darling," Cas says stiffly, and Dean leans forward, equally awkward.   
They almost hit heads when they kiss, lips barely ghosting for a second before they pull away.   
Jo looks unsatisfied, and Charlie makes a booing noise.   
"Kiss him like a man, Dean!" Comes Chuck's voice and even Castiel has to stare.   
Chuck who's been quiet all this time finally speaks up. Now, of all times, Chuck decides to speak up.   
Thankfully, George shows up with their food.  
It smells great, and soon, everyone has forgotten about the almost kiss.   
Instead, Jo shovels chicken Alfredo down his throat and Cas keeps holding out spoonfuls of beef stew to Jo.   
It's delicious, but the as the rest of dinner passes, Dean shifts more farther away from Cas until there is a literal foot of space between them.   
George comes back asking for dessert, but Cas is too full to eat anything.   
"Lets get the mousse cake thing," Jo whispers to him, and reluctantly, Castiel nods. He's going to be on the treadmill for hours if he's going to work this meal off.   
"Hey Kevin, you get the strawberry trifle and I'll get the chocolate truffles, we can share," Chuck says to Kevin, and soon they're ordering again.   
Castiel knows he'll end up paying most likely, but that's okay. He can afford it.  
He isn't fond of being around people, but this, he supposes is okay. There aren't too many people, and the place isn't too crowded. He may like it.   
The mousse cake thing, as it turns out, is so creamy and delicious that Castiel might burst but he still keeps eating.   
Since it's big, very big, Jo abandons her finished plate to help Castiel.   
"You guys still need to kiss," Kevin reminds them and Dean looks over to him with a slightly annoyed look. Obviously he's annoyed, they'd done such a good job of making sure no one noticed until they had to leave, but clearly, Kevin hadn't forgotten.   
"Kiss him like a man!" Charlie repeats, mostly to Dean and Cas wants to stuff his face with the mousse cake until everyone leaves.  
So Dean twists his body slightly, scooting his chair closer to Castiel's.   
He looks equally distressed, lips pressed in a thin line.   
Castiel sighs, maybe this is a gang harassment and he could call the police? He tugs his collar, turning to face Dean. 

Castiel's lips taste like chocolate, is the first thing that comes to Dean's mind when he kisses him. He can still hear Charlie beside him, telling him he isn't much of a macho kisser.   
So he cups Cas' cheek with one hand, cocking his head to the side and slides his tongue into Castiel's mouth.   
Cas makes a small noise, but reciprocates, holding onto Dean's shoulders and moving his chocolatey lips against Dean's.   
For Dean, it isn't long enough, Castiel pulls away very fast.  
When Dean moves back into his seat, settling in, he notices the fiery heat burning at the tips of Castiel's ears.   
He grins, eyes on Cas even though everyone on the table is cheering.   
"That's more like it," satisfied, Charlie turns away and so continues the rest of dessert, kiss long forgotten.


	7. Snow White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Wait, this is Castiel?" It's Sam, the chubby child with cheeks full of eggs.  
> "I thought he was really mean, I mean, you said that he was really bossy an-" Dean slaps a hand over Sam's mouth, chuckling nervously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really trying to finish this story BC I PROMISE IT'LL GET CUTER

It's been two days since Castiel's been living in Dean's shitty apartment.  
Which is fine, but the only problem is, they sleep on the same bed.  
At first, Castiel insisted he'd sleep on the floor. But Dean knows how much of a jerky thing it would be if he let his boss sleep on the floor.  
His bed is big, comfortably big.  
So he decides that as long as Cas sleeps on the other end of the bed, he'll be fine with it.  
He is, fine with it. Castiel sleeps rigidly on his side of the bed, and doesn't move once.  
But the day he does move, is the worst. 

Mary Winchester has had it.  
Dean didn't show up for Sam's 9th birthday last weekend, so she shows up at his apartment, this weekend.  
She's a good mother, so she slips into the apartment with Sam and their suitcases quietly and sets into the kitchen.  
Eggs, bacon, and juice. That's literally it.  
Mary frowns, Dean really needs to start eating more.  
With a sigh, she fixes Sammy up in front of Dean's TV and makes some breakfast for Dean.  
Even with the delicious smells of breakfast, Dean doesn't wake up.  
So she waits ten more minutes, before grabbing the plate of food and marching into Dean's bedroom.  
Well, there's a girl in bed with him.  
God, Mary can't stop the small snicker that escapes her mouth.  
She waits outside the door, juggling the plate as she tries to knock on the door.  
But then, there's voices.  
"Seriously?"  
She can't help it, so she looks over, and boy is she wrong.  
It isn't a girl, it's a guy, actually, a guy with an extreme case of bed head.  
"What? Morning wood is normal!" Dean protests.  
"Why the fuck are you hard all the time?" Comes the grumbling reply.  
He's holding the other guy by the waist, and the brunette hisses and smacks Dean's hand away.  
"Get the hell off of me!" He says, pushing his body under the covers.  
"You didn't mind when you were friggen' cuddling up like a girl," Dean scoffs and the guy turns and gives Dean a proper glare.  
"You know what, I think I'm just going to get up!" The unknown guy says and Mary almost drops the plates trying to hold in her laughter.  
It's torturous enough, so she steps into the room, "morning, Dean," she says with a smile.

Castiel's really tired, but Dean's fucking spooning him with a dick problem first thing in the morning, and he feels like shit.  
They're alone, and suddenly they aren't. It's a woman, a blonde, older looking woman.  
It's so surprising that Cas makes a small noise from his throat and trips over the covers, arm flailing out to grab Dean.  
Apparently, Dean is equally dead in the morning, so he goes flying, and they fall together in a mess of limbs and sheets.  
He groans loudly, the air knocked out of his lungs.  
He squeezes his eyes shut and moans, hands scrambling against Dean's shoulder blades.  
"Move," he chokes out, and Dean knocks his forehead against Cas'.  
Dean grumbles against his cheek and slowly ambles off of Cas.  
When he can breathe again, Castiel stands up, knees knocking as he stares at his bare feet awkwardly.  
"Mom?" Dean looks even more surprised than Castiel does.  
Wait, mom?  
"Yeah, it's me," she grins widely, and pulls Dean into a hug once she's put the plates down.  
"Me and Sammy are here because you didn't come last weekend," she informs Dean through the hug.  
Cas looks down, slightly guilty.  
He'd stopped Dean from going.  
"I didn't know you had company," she tries not to laugh, and Castiel clears his throat, flush rising on his neck.  
"Uh, hello. Castiel, uh, Castiel Novak," he holds his hand out and Dean's mom takes it with another big smile.  
"Mary Winchester, hi, Castiel," she says warmly.  
Dean's immediately pulled into a hug again, "darling, Sammy's waiting for you," she says, and Dean's face breaks into a grin.  
They leave, and Castiel's alone, staring at the bed with a sigh.  
He quickly fixes the bed and heads into the shower.  
His stuff is in the small bag by the sink in the bathroom.  
Castiel tries to ignore the fact that Dean's family came all the way from wherever to see him, when Dean wasn't at a party last weekend.  
He swallows the lump in his throat painfully. It's not like he doesn't have family. He has Ellen and Jo, and that's all he really needs.  
But he's alone.  
There isn't anyone at his apartment to come home to, no anniversaries and birthdays to celebrate. No stupid family arguments and messy breakfasts. Just, himself.  
He sighs, showering quickly because of his growling stomach.  
He tries to stay out of Dean's hair as much as possible. As ignorant as Dean thinks he is, he knows it's already a big favor that he's staying at Dean's place.  
So Castiel usually heads out for breakfast, and stays out until the absolute last minute.  
Once he's pulled on some casual clothes, since it is Saturday, he heads out into the living room.  
"Dean? I'm leaving," he informs Dean, who's sitting at the small dinner table and stuffing his face with bacon.  
His cheeks are full and he looks up like he's been caught doing something naughty. Cas pauses and bites the inside of his cheek to prevent his smile.  
Before Dean can speak, Mary pipes up.  
"Oh, Castiel, where are you going?" She asks with a smile, pouring orange juice into the glass of the boy who seems to be 'Sammy'.  
"Uh, just, going out for breakfast, Mrs. Winchester," Cas says, running a hand through his damp hair.  
"What? Why?" She doesn't give him a chance to speak, instead, she starts talking again, "nonsense, Castiel, you have to eat breakfast with us," she laughs a little, "what kind of boyfriends are you?"  
At that point, Dean almost spits his orange juice out, face red and eyes blown wide.  
"Mom, we aren't even together," he manages to scoff.  
Castiel stands silently, feeling even more awkward in the presence of Dean's mother and brother.  
"Yeah, okay," she narrows her eyes at Dean and pats the empty dining chair.  
Castiel places himself on the seat primly, unable to make eye contact with everyone at the table.  
"Wait, this is Castiel?" It's Sam, the chubby child with cheeks full of eggs.  
"I thought he was really mean, I mean, you said that he was really bossy an-" Dean slaps a hand over Sam's mouth, chuckling nervously.  
Castiel tries not to act like it bothers him, "yeah, I'm absolutely horrendous," he laughs a little, trying to cover the obvious glare he's shooting Dean.  
Mary laughs with him, but her eyes portray that she notices the obvious tension in the room.  
"Hey, uh, Castiel is my boss," Dean shrugs a little, and once Sam's eaten and is planted in front of the TV again, they talk a bit more.  
Everyone's finished eating except for Castiel, who eats much slower, chewing thoughtfully on his eggs before nodding.  
"Yeah, I've just had some unfortunate problems with my apartment, so I'm mooching off of Dean here for a while," he states and Mary nods.  
"Okay, I see. And does the office have a problem with you two being together?" She asks, pointing her fork between both of them.  
Before Castiel can say anything, Dean huffs and shakes his head.  
"We aren't together, he's just crashing here for a while," he says loudly, and Castiel grimaces a little.  
He sets his fork and knife down, right side down and pushes his plate away.  
He can't eat anymore, but his plate is still half full. Instead, he opts for sipping his juice.  
"But why aren't you together?" Mary asks, as if the answer isn't obvious.  
"We don't like, uh, each other," Dean raises an eyebrow.  
"But Castiel's pretty!" Sam quips from the TV, and immediately, Cas' cheeks turn crimson, neck flushed hot.  
"Kinda looks like Snow White," he adds and Mary chuckles.  
Dean looks like he wants to bury himself in a hole ten feet under ground.  
Castiel blushes even harder, eyes trained on the table.  
Pretty.  
Cas is pretty?  
Pretty.  
He chokes out a nervous laugh, "t-thanks, Sam."  
Sam looks up from the couch, eyes wide and big, "you're welcome."


	8. Fried Donuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean tears his gaze away from his mom, looking out at Sam, who's chasing the dog and Castiel, who's running away from the dog.

Dean can't help the stupid smile on his face.  
It sticks for the rest of breakfast.   
He didn't think much of Castiel before.   
Castiel was just, Castiel. There wasn't any other way to describe him. But Sam's words. Sam said Cas looked like Snow White.   
And when Dean takes a good long look at him, he realizes his 9 year old brother is so right.   
Castiel is beautiful. It actually starts a slight ache in Dean's heart when he takes a close look.   
He has to look away, resisting the urge to jump on Cas right there.   
He definitely looks like Snow White.   
The hair, Cas' hair is dark brown, almost black and severely messed up. Loose strands fall everywhere and what should be the worst case of bed head, is the hottest. Dean's never scrutinized Castiel's eyes, he hasn't felt the need to. But they're the most clearest blue ever, standing stark against his deliciously tan skin.  
Castiel looks a bit awkward between his family, fiddling with his slender fingers and chewing on his pink lips.  
It's hard to believe this is his boss. His ruthless, make Dean work after hours, boss.   
"You boys have the day off, right?" Mary asks, interrupting Dean's daydream.   
He snaps out of his haze and nods dumbly, "yeah, uh, yeah." There's a nod from Cas too.   
"Lets go to the park," she suggests, and Sam whips up at the mention. Dean can't say no to the chubby, grinning face of his little brother, and apparently, neither can Cas.   
Castiel is already dressed, a pair of nicely fitting dark jeans and a button down, sleeves pushed up to his elbows.  
It's too casual, another surprise for Dean.  
Dean throws on a pair of jeans and a black t shirt.   
"Wait, boys," Mary looks sly, eyebrow raised suggestively.   
Dean groans, what is his mother thinking?  
"Give him a kiss for me," she says and Cas coughs beside Dean.   
"Mom," he hisses, "Castiel is my boss," he doesn't know what his mother doesn't understand. It's kind of simple.   
But ever since Dean kissed Cas that day at dinner, it isn't so simple anymore.   
He decides that the feel of Castiel's lips on his was too nice of a feeling to forget.   
Or the small noise Cas had made. Dean pauses a moment, wondering what it would be like to coax more of those lovely sounds from the sweet, bitten lips of his boss.   
He shakes his head, scowling a little as he tries to rid his body of the warm feeling and dirty thoughts.   
No.   
He isn't going to think like that anymore, he didn't need to.  
It's getting a little cold now, the chill of autumn is slowly turning to the cold of winter.   
So while Mary bundles Sam up in a windbreaker, Dean throws on a hoodie.   
Apparently, Castiel isn't expecting the sudden change of weather, so Dean holds out one of his hoodies for Cas.   
"Dean, it's fin-" Dean shakes his head and cuts Cas off.   
"It's cool, I don't mind," he shrugs and opens the door of his apartment for his mom and Sam.   
Castiel shies away, following in the back as they leave the building.  
"Oh, Dean!" It's Mr. Campbell, the older man who lives a few doors down from Dean.   
"Hey, Mr. Campbell," Dean smiles a little, noticing how the older man is struggling with the leash of a dog.   
The wind whips against Dean's cheeks and he squints.   
"I need a favor, boy." Mr. Campbell says and Dean nods a bit, "what do ya need?"  
"Well, can't take the dog into the apartment, so will ya just watch her until my daughter comes back? I wanna head inside and finish packing." He explains and Dean reaches over and takes the leash.   
"Yeah, no problem," Dean shoots him a small smile and Mr. Campbell hurries off, "just bring her here in an hour or so, thanks, boy."   
Sam looks awed by the small little bulldog that looks up expectantly.  
"Here," Dean hands the leash to Sam, who eagerly grabs in, fingers tightening around Mary's hand.   
The park isn't far, almost a block away by a stand that sells fried donuts.   
The walk is short, and soon, Sam's protective hold of his mother's hand is gone, tiny fingers slipping into Cas' instead.   
"Lets go play!" He insists excitedly, dragging Castiel away before he can protest.   
Dean snickers a bit, it's weird, how much Sam likes Castiel. Perhaps it's because he's never seen Castiel at work, or maybe, Dean's the only one who seems to have a problem with him.   
He shakes his head, Castiel's always been mean.   
When he's convinced himself, he takes a seat by Mary.   
She sighs a bit, "I get it, you're not together." They look over to Cas, who's hesitantly reaching out the pet the dog.   
There's a moment of silence, only the sound of other on goers in the park.   
"But Dean, I know, it's okay," she says quietly, taking one of Dean's cold hands in hers.   
"I love you, my baby boy," she looks over to him, "please, if you like him, tell him."  
There's truth in his mothers words. It's true, there's a horribly soft spot inside Dean for Cas.   
But he isn't going to do anything. Because Castiel is his boss, and Dean is the measly secretary.   
And that's the way it'll stay.   
He won't ever get a kiss back from Castiel, and within a month or so, he's going to marry the guy he's slowly feeling something towards.   
It's all too much, Dean decides, groaning a bit.   
"Mom, I can't, I, I don't know how..." He trails off in frustration, and Mary smiles kindly.  
Dean tears his gaze away from his mom, looking out at Sam, who's chasing the dog and Castiel, who's running away from the dog.   
He's running fast, the expression on his face is priceless as he whizzes past Dean and Mary, the dog's barks and Sam's shrieks evident in the wind.   
Dean chuckles a bit, and even Mary bites her lip at the hilarious scene.   
"Go be his hero," she gestures to a panting Castiel, against his knees and breathing heavily.   
"Save him from the ravenous dog." She laughs, and Dean pulls her into a hug, receiving a kiss of good luck on his forehead.   
Dean puffs out a breath of air that turns into a swirl of frozen oxygen.   
"Need some help?" He throws Castiel a charming smile, holding his hand out.   
Castiel looks at him, and takes his hand, lifting his body up.   
"The, the dog," he pants out, "chased me." He pauses, catching his breath before Dean lets Cas' chilled hand go.  
Dean grins, "I know."   
Sam finally catches up, grabbing the dog's leash and looking up at Dean.   
"Here." He thrusts the leash into Dean's hand and runs off to Mary.  
Cas looks over to Dean, with one of his looks. Lips pursed and eyes softened in curiosity. As if he's looking something over and trying to figure out what's happening.   
His mom snaps him out of his trance.  
"Dean!" Mary calls and Dean jogs towards his mom, cocking his head to the side.   
"Sammy wants some of those fried donuts." She explains and Dean looks over to his little brother shying away behind his mom.   
"Sammy, honey, what do you say?"   
"Please, Dean?" Sam says sweetly, and Dean laughs, reaching his hand out towards his brother.   
He hoists Sam's body up, holding Sam tightly against his hip. Sam's tiny legs wrap around his waist and he looks over to Castiel.   
"Wanna go get donuts?" Mary's walking with them, gesturing to the crowded stall a few yards away.   
Cas shrugs, "I'll just go grab my wallet." He starts to turn towards the apartment building, but Dean can't help himself and he grabs Cas' wrist.   
"I brought mine." He says casually, trying not to notice how surprised Castiel looks.   
There's a slide, and Cas' thin wrist slips from his grip.   
"No, Dean, it's fine. I'll only be a minute." He says and Dean shakes his head.   
"Dude, it's cool. I have money," Dean replies firmly, and puts an arm around his mom's shoulder. He's really happy that they're here, he and Castiel don't talk much and it leads to never ending silence and boredom.   
"You boys go sit, Sammy and I will get some, yeah?" Mary suggests, reaching out and pulling Sam into her arms.   
He's a small boy, much smaller than Dean was when he was nine.   
Dean wants to say that he isn't a boy anymore, and that he can handle being called Dean. Instead, he shrugs, "sure, why not?"   
He strolls over to the nearest park bench and Cas follows.  
The dog settles beside Castiel's leg, so Dean loosens his grip on the leash.   
"You have a very nice family, Dean." Castiel says for the first time. He hasn't said much this entire time, so Dean turns over, facing him with a raised eyebrow.   
"Yeah. It's too bad my dad didn't come." He sighs a bit, "probably busy with the company." He looks over to Cas, lost in his hoodie.   
That hoodie is too big on Dean, but it seems to be swallowing Castiel up.   
It sits just above Cas' thigh, his fingers peeking out through the sleeves.   
Dean realizes Castiel is shorter than him, and much smaller. But it's weird, he's never noticed because of how hard Castiel's demeanor is. The way he shows himself at work, crisp and hard, tone clipped and quick. Because when Castiel acts like the way he does, Dean's almost afraid to do things wrong. And he never notices their height differences either because of that.  
"You're very lucky, Dean." Castiel says quietly and Dean cocks his head to the side, mouth forming a confused frown.   
Castiel just pets the dog, running his hand between her ears.   
But before he can ask what Cas means, Mary and Sam come back with two big bags of fried donuts. A sweet, greasy smell rises into the air and Dean breathes in deeply.   
"Ah, the good stuff!" Mary laughs and hands him back his wallet.   
"Darling, it's getting cold, and we should get back, yeah? I don't want Sammy to catch a cold." Her motherly instincts kick in and she starts to round them up, pushing and prodding until Dean and Castiel start walking.   
They attack the bags, Sam's happy gobbling down as many fried donuts as he can, only pausing once to dip his hands back into the bag.   
Castiel isn't eating, Dean notices and apparently, Sam does too.   
"Why isn't Cas eating?" Sam's already adopted the nickname, there's a slight proud swell in Dean's heart.   
"Uh, well. I pet the dog, so I can't put my hands in with the food." He explains a little awkwardly, fingers fiddling around the leash Mary had handed him when she started eating.   
Sam laughs childishly, reaching into the bag and pulling out a donut, holding it out to Castiel.   
"Here." He insists, and Dean just plops another donut in his mouth, watching the ordeal with an amused smile.   
Cas clears his throat, speeding his pace up, but he crouches down and lets Sam drop the donut into his mouth.   
At this point, Mary laughs a bit, "aw, my sweet boys." She coos and Dean can't help but stuff his mouth full of the donuts.   
They're delicious, warm and sweet, melting in his mouth and crispy on the outside.  
"Thank you, Sam." Castiel says politely after he's swallowed, and they continue to walk.   
Sure enough, Mr. Campbell is waiting outside.   
"Ah, right on time!" He smiles and quickly takes the leash from Castiel.   
"Can't thank you enough, Dean," he says and rushes off.   
As they head inside, Mary settles Sam into Dean's room for a nap and Castiel washes up and changes into some much more formal clothing.   
A cream dress shirt and neatly pressed black slacks.  
Castiel steps into the bathroom for a moment, and Dean only catches a few words Cas' is muttering on the phone about dry cleaning and ironing.  
"I have a meeting." He informs Dean and Mary, rushing out of the apartment within ten minutes.   
"Dean, he's a great guy." Mary says, cutting through the steady silence fifteen minutes after Castiel leaves.  
Dean stays quiet, flipping through the channels on the TV with a bored sigh.   
"I know," he murmurs, mostly to himself.   
But he isn't going to do anything. Castiel despises him with a capital D. And even if his stupid crush on Cas grows, he can't let him find out.   
Ever.


	9. Pie Baking with Mama Winchester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But he doesn't.   
> Because he's not a dick.   
> And even though Castiel is, it doesn't mean he's going to fuck his boss into the crust of the pie.   
> Because that would be nasty.   
> And also, he really wants pie.

Castiel yawns, parking his car in front of the downtown Starbucks.   
The meeting went well, he'd signed another project and had even managed to score a couple extra thousand on the contract.   
It only takes him ten minutes to grab his latte and stumble back into his car.   
Back at the apartment, Castiel notices that when he walks in, a homey, apple scent is drifting everywhere.   
He's about to collapse on the couch and sleep through the rest of his life when Mary pops up through the kitchen, smile big and warm.   
"Ah, Castiel." She beckons to him, and Cas shuffles over to where she's standing.   
"I'm baking a pie, Dean's favorite. Do you mind just giving me hand?" She asks sweetly.   
Castiel is a jerk, a major jerk. But not to the mothers of people he employs. So he nods blearily, gulping down the rest of his lukewarm latte before heading into the tiny, apartment kitchen with Mary.   
"I really appreciate your help, sweetie, Dean's watching a movie with Sammy so I didn't want to interrupt." Castiel just nods, heart prickling with loneliness.   
"What can I help you with?" Cas asks, rolling up the sleeves of his button down.   
Mary's watching a pan with apples and some kind of liquid, and she points at the fridge.   
"There's pie crust in there, honey, if you can just roll it out for me."   
Castiel blinks, pulling the two mounds of dough covered in plastic wrap.   
They're hard, but Castiel supposes they need to be. So he unwraps one, and looks at the wooden roller that sits innocently on the counter.   
It's hard shit.   
First, Castiel tries to flatten the dough between his hands, attempting to get a smoother surface so he can roll it properly. But it doesn't work, and instead, his hands become sticky.   
Mary offers her help, since Castiel's making it evident he's never made a pie before, but Castiel declines politely.   
He's going to do this himself, and it's going to be fucking beast.   
Determined, Castiel presses down, jumping a bit until the pie crust dents.   
He grins, triumphantly, earning a high five from Mary who's stirring the delicious smelling pie filling. 

Dean loves his brother. He loves Sammy with all his heart, and he regrets it when he can't be there for Sam.   
For the day Sam got a certificate of achievement in Math, fuck his nine year old brother was smart. He missed the talent show, Sammy's ninth birthday and who knows what else he missed while he was in New York.  
But now Sammy's here, and he can make it up to his brother.   
They watch a movie on Dean's laptop, and Dean even hugs the small body of Sam close.   
Eventually, Sam grows tired, halfway through the movie and passes out on Dean.   
So gingerly, Dean wriggles out of Sam's tiny grip, shutting his laptop and throwing his blanket over Sam's sleeping body before tiptoeing out.   
The living room and small hallway are empty, and soft grunts come from the kitchen.   
What?   
Dean walks up to the kitchen door, tilting his head against the frame, arms crossed.   
The kitchen is small, but he can smell the delicious smells of apples cooking. His mom is by the stove, but what really surprises him is Castiel.   
Cas is hunched over the counter, helpless noises escaping his mouth as he tries to flatten the pie crust.   
Dean holds back a snicker, and his mom looks like she's trying to hold back her laugh just as much.   
It's so cute.   
There's flour all over Castiel's expensive white shirt, splattered over his black slacks.   
His eyebrows are furrowed as he runs a hand through his hair, getting more flour into his hair.   
Dean wants to record this, and watch this forever because all the guilt he'd felt earlier about his brother is dissipating, eyebrow raised in amusement.  
Cas still hasn't noticed Dean, which is fine, because he seems to be concentrating so hard, thinning down the crust enough to fit in the pie tin.  
Dean finally spares Castiel the hilarity and heads over behind him.   
"Your pie crust looks fine," he murmurs into Castiel's ear, breath hot and voice low.   
Castiel shivers, and Dean wants to smirk, just because he's able to do that to his stone boss.   
"Thank you, Dean." Castiel manages to say when he catches himself, breath caught in his throat.   
"Let me help, yeah?" Dean suggests, and doesn't wait for an answer as he places his hands on Castiel's on the rolling pin.   
His own hands seem to swallow Castiel's, palm sliding over Cas' slender fingers.   
Well, Castiel isn't protesting.  
"Look, put pressure in the middle, and press." Dean knows perfectly well that he can say this out loud, and not so seductively.   
But it's much more fun this way, getting his boss to squirm under him, helping him roll out the crust when he can easily roll his hips against Cas' arse.   
But he doesn't.   
Because he's not a dick.   
And even though Castiel is, it doesn't mean he's going to fuck his boss into the crust of the pie.   
Because that would be nasty.   
And also, he really wants pie.   
But Cas' ass doesn't look too shabby in the good fitting slacks, perfectly round and leading to his muscular thighs and firm calves.   
Fuck, Castiel is so hot, Dean's pretty sure he needs to move. Right now, before Cas can feel his half hard dick.   
Which is exactly what he does, and Castiel's tense shoulders relax.   
He's not sure if Castiel really minded it, or if he's going to fire Dean on Monday, but he isn't going to deny his disappointment.   
All his confidence in being able to woo his boss disappears and he coughs, "I'm just going to..." He trails off and rushes out of the kitchen.

Castiel groans.   
The pie is damn hard work.   
And Dean pushed up against his ass isn't actually helpful to his baking skills. It's nice, almost hot and it makes Castiel crave more. But he isn't going to say that out loud, ever. And so Castiel deals with the sexual frustration about letting his secretary bend him over and fuck him, while baking a pie. It's weird, how much he wants Dean near him, how much he wants Dean to touch him. It's surreal. And Cas isn't sure if it's a good thing. The one guy he despised the most in his work building is the guy he thinks about while grunting and puffing breaths over the solid mounds of pie crust.   
Thankfully, the pie is in the oven now, and Mary pulls him into a thank you hug.   
It's so sweet, it may be a small gesture to her, but for Cas, he feels like he's jumping on clouds. The feeling of being appreciated, that someone needed his help and he's able to provide.   
The feeling of being loved.   
It's great, and Castiel doesn't ever want to let Mary go.   
He holds on as long as can, arms wrapped around her shoulders, letting go when he decides he might creep her out.   
"Sweetie, if you ever need a hug, I'm here, okay?" She assures him with a big, warm smile.   
Castiel nods hesitantly, he almost feels like he's intruding on Dean's perfect little family.  
"I'm serious, Cas," oh, she's even adopted the nickname.   
Castiel just sighs, "I know, Mrs. Winchester, I know." He offers a small smile.   
Mary looks satisfied when she gives him a nudge towards Dean, who's sitting on the couch scrolling through channels lazily.   
Castiel takes a deep breath.   
He needs to confront Dean about this. Yet somehow, his palms are sweating a storm.   
He isn't nervous. He's Castiel Novak, he's never nervous. He's spoken to a thousand people once, he's handled big business deals with major people in the architectural world. He's done more than anyone expects out of him, but asking Dean if he likes Castiel is throwing him off.   
So he runs to the bathroom, sitting on the closed toilet lid, head in his hands.   
He's Castiel Novak, and right now, he's shitting his pants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah finally, we're finally getting somewhere. sorry this story is taking so long to have a good make out session..i just wanna have a slow build idk..;*


	10. So Be It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Listen, Charlie, m'sorry, ok? But, what am I supposed to do?" He sighs, lips pressed into a thin line.   
> "Just do it, Dean. You can't possibly hate him that much if you want to bend him over your favorite dessert." She states and Dean almost regrets telling her that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I do a smut chapter?? Lmao our journey with this story is coming to an end!   
> Alas, the great ship has sailed!   
> I might post maybe two more chapters, and maybe an epilogue?? Idkk but yeah :)

Dean's had enough.  
He can't take Castiel's stupid flour covered hair and his stupid flour covered body.   
And he can't take the stupid apple filling smear across the corner of his mouth. There's an incredible urge inside Dean to just grab Castiel's stubbled jaw and lick the stupid filling and then probably kiss him so hard he'll fall to his knees. Dean smirks inwardly, it isn't a bad position. Not. At. All.  
He wants to hate Castiel even more, now. For being so damn perfect. For getting along nicely with his family. For being able to worm his way into his lovely mother and brother's hearts. He has so many reasons to dislike Castiel even more.   
But he can't. Because there isn't anything wrong at all.   
The way Castiel bakes pie with his mom, it makes his heart strings tug into a fluttering mess.   
The way Castiel and Sam play with the dog, it makes his chest swell in adoration.   
He's lost in thought, conflicting with himself and fiddling with his shirt when his mom knocks on the door.   
"Dean, there's some special pie made by a special person," she smiles gently, eyes twinkling and Dean chuckles.   
Special someone.   
Yeah, special.   
Sure, Castiel still has a snarky tongue and sure, he is sarcastic and can be mean. But there is another side to him, the lonely, soft side.   
The side Dean hasn't seen until a few days ago.   
"Yeah? That's gotta be good."   
They head into the kitchen, where Sammy's sitting at the dining table, happily devouring the pie, and Castiel, sitting on the counter, legs swinging slightly as he eats his slice of pie slowly.   
He offers a subtle smile when Dean walks in, and his mom cuts him a nice, big slice of warm pie.   
The pie smells really nice, actually.   
Dean joins Sam on the table and grins down at his slice, "come to papa!" He purrs, digging in.   
The pie is delicious.   
By pie, mostly the filling. It's warm, fruity, and spicy with cinnamon.   
The crust, however, not so much. What should be flaky and buttery is actually slightly thick and hard.   
Sam doesn't seem to mind, and since Castiel looked so damn proud earlier, Dean smiles through the rock hard crust and eats it with a happy face.   
It turns out that Castiel should've rolled it out fast, when it was still cold. But it had taken him so long to find a pace, that the crust was breaking and cracked when he'd put it on.   
Mary hadn't said anything, especially since Castiel was trying so hard.  
So she and Dean share secretive looks as they eat, cautiously avoiding the crust, but not too much to make Cas feel bad.  
"Charlie, I swear to god, I'm gonna hit a bitch real soon." Dean huffs loudly into the phone, eyes rolling.   
"Yeah, well, if you'd told me sooner, I would've been able to help!" Charlie accuses from the end of the line. Dean feels slightly guilty, he didn't tell his best friend, and now that he was, Charlie was mad that he hadn't told her sooner.   
"Listen, Charlie, m'sorry, ok? But, what am I supposed to do?" He sighs, lips pressed into a thin line.   
"Just do it, Dean. You can't possibly hate him that much if you want to bend him over your favorite dessert." She states and Dean almost regrets telling her that.   
"I just, fine, I'll figure it out since you aren't any help." He grumbles, fiddling with the loose string on the couch and throwing his head back.   
"Yeah, yeah, Dean." There's a heavy sigh from Charlie, and Dean catches the door bell ring.   
"Wow, fuck off now, liar pants, Gilda's here." Charlie laughs on the line and hangs up before Dean has the chance to reply.   
"'Atta girl." He says fondly, watching the TV blankly as he ignores his problems for another two hours.   
It's almost 9pm when Dean talks to Castiel again.   
Sammy's sleeping, and his mom is out with the lady who lives three doors down, drinking tea and probably making lace.   
Dean snorts, women.   
Castiel's sitting at the desk in Dean's room, glasses sitting on the point of his nose as he works on his laptop.   
Dean coughs, but Castiel doesn't even raise an eyebrow, too busy with whatever the fuck he's doing.   
Dean sighs, flopping down on the bed, trying not to think of himself as a creep when as he observes Castiel.   
He's definitely shorter than Dean, but he's also toned, not limp, but toned and thin. His hair is so fucking gorgeous from this angle, pitch black and royally messed into an artful, yet unplanned bed head.   
Dean want's to laugh at the situation he's planted himself in, but once he catches a glimpse of Castiel's eyes, brightly illuminated by the glow of the laptop screen and the mellow lamp, it dies in his throat.   
To put it simply, Castiel's gorgeous in every way Dean doesn't want.   
He isn't a woman, he's sturdy, and he won't break. Yet he has an almost slight feminine touch to him. The way he moves so gracefully, composed and sure. The flick of his thin wrists, and the way the sweater he's wearing hides his slim waist. Even the way his slender fingers wrap around the pen he's holding, chewing thoughtfully on the end, the pen lid caught between pink, pouty lips.   
Dean still likes women, he likes their softness and their curves, the warmth of their bodies as they cry out beneath him. He likes being able to control, to be able to protect her.   
But maybe, just maybe, the thought of having his boss writhe under him, lips pulled into a hoarse moan is a thought Dean likes better.   
Dean really can't take it anymore.   
He growls a little, stalking off of the bed and tapping Castiel's shoulder.   
Castiel looks up, "can I help you, Dean?" He says warily.   
Dean raises an eyebrow, lips set into a deep line.   
Oh fuck it.   
He grabs Castiel by the lapels of his sweater, manhandling his boss to his feet.   
"Dean, what the fuck?" Castiel looks surprised, and almost a little annoyed but Dean's too busy watching his eyes, leaning in closer and closer.   
When Cas doesn't move, Dean dips down, capturing Castiel's lips with his.   
This time, it's because he wants to.   
Castiel isn't responding, but Dean can't bring himself to care because fuck, if heaven existed, this would be it.   
Castiel's lips are chapped and soft, and Dean loosens his fists on Cas' sweater, sliding his hands down and settling them on Castiel's hips.   
There isn't a response, still, and Dean resists the urge to sigh heavily and probably leave the country with the amount of embarrassment he's going to experience.   
As if his nightmare is coming to life, Castiel pries himself from Dean's very form grip.   
"Dean?" Castiel says quietly, looking up into the worried green of Dean's eyes.   
"You taste like apple pie." Comes the very unintelligent response from Castiel. It's true, he'd eaten another slice of pie almost ten minutes ago.   
There's a stupid smile that takes over Dean's face, and before he can register much more, Castiel's arms are thrown over Dean's neck, and he's pulled into a deep kiss.   
This time, Castiel kisses Dean back with just as much fervor.   
Dean groans at the back of his throat, one hand on the small of Cas' back, pulling him as humanely close as possible.   
They pull away slightly, noses bumping until Dean pulls Cas back in, unable to get enough.  
His tongue slides across the seam of Castiel's mouth, and Dean smiles a little when Castiel opens his mouth.   
Cas tastes like mint, as if he's already brushed his teeth, his mouth is warm and inviting, tongue pliant against Dean's.   
He can feel Castiel stroke gently at the curve of his jaw, and when they pull away again, Dean smiles even more dopily.   
Castiel's cheeks are flush, and his lips are slick and red.  
There aren't any words when Dean slips his fingers between Castiel's. There isn't a need. Castiel isn't one for feelings, that's what Dean does know. But he himself isn't exactly in love with chick flick moments. 

Castiel's overwhelmed. Not only did Dean literally just kiss him, alone, and not in front of an audience, but he is also holding Cas' hand.   
He tries not to think about it too much and probably pour the Niagara Falls of sweat down Dean's hand.   
And then he dawns on him that Dean's been so good to him, and that Castiel has the girliest (not a real word but fuck it) crush on Dean Winchester.   
But it comes to his realization when they're standing there, basking in the presence of contentment, that he still is doing something to Dean that Dean doesn't want.   
Fuck, he's about to bring a major heart to heart, touchy-feely thing into their moment.   
"Dean," he sighs, tugging at Dean's hand until they're both sitting on the bed.   
"I'm breaking up with you." He states lamely, and looks away from Dean's confused face.   
"I, I'm not going to marry you, okay? I...I really like you, o-okay?" He picks at the hem of his sweater, pushing his stupid glasses up his nose. Of all the times that he can be a blushing school girl, it's right now, when he's letting Dean go.   
"And, and even I know that it isn't right to force someone you like into something they don't." He mumbles, unable to meet Dean's gaze. He's basically confessing his stupid, secret crush, to a guy he's so sure despises the crap out of him. He hasn't figured out why Dean kissed him, maybe it was the crust? Castiel knows there's something fishy about it. He regrets making Dean hate him this much, so much that he probably doesn't like Castiel the way Cas likes him.   
He's so sure that Dean's about to heave a relieved sigh and dance around the room. Probably throw a party because he's happy that he doesn't have to marry his stick in the mud boss.   
But instead, Dean's finger crooks under his chin, making Cas look at Dean.   
"I swear, Cas, I fucking swear I'm going to get you your promotion." He says fiercely, and Castiel flushes, suddenly shy.   
"Ok, Dean." He murmurs, reluctant.   
"I'm serious." Dean knows Castiel doesn't believe it, but he's going to try. Someone will have to physically disable him before he quits trying.   
Castiel's such a good person inside. He's lonely, and he's kind. His heart isn't made of ice, and apparently, he has feelings. And Dean knows he deserves it. Despite the hard coating outside, Dean knows that the cooler, more relaxed guy inside deserves to be promoted.  
"And for the record, I really like you too." He adds finally, brushing his thumb on the sharp cut of Cas' jaw.   
Castiel's lips curl into a smile, heart swelling. He doesn't do cute, romance kind of moments, but he supposes this is nice.   
That night, Castiel lets Dean spoon him. He lets Dean press small kisses to his neck, and to run his hands through Castiel's hair.   
He lets Dean whisper promises against his skin when Dean thinks he's asleep.   
So what if Mary happens to catch them, holding each other tight. And so what if she snaps a picture, tiptoeing out and looking quite proud.   
And in the morning, when Dean wakes up as the little spoon, Castiel's smaller body curled behind him, so be it.   
And if they end up devouring each other, rather than getting up for breakfast, well, so be it.   
So be it.


	11. Cheap Rings and Deja vu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean can't help but reach over and stroke Castiel's jaw, tender and sweet despite the amount of employees watching them.  
> He can't bring himself to care, however. Because screw them and their opinions on Castiel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tHERE SHALL BE DESTIEL!!! Sorry about any mistakes aha I wrote this up quickly so everyone could get all pumped for the (;

Dean's on another coffee run, grazing the man with the briefcase.  
He almost snorts, déjà vu? Totally.  
Except this time, it's drizzling, a blank cold Thursday with grey clouds surrounding all of New York, and the guy he's dashing through the crowded streets for, is Castiel.  
There's a vendor, selling cheap jewelry by the sidewalk and Dean almost passes him by when he notices the shining arrays of rings and necklaces.  
He slows down, eyes narrowing on a particularly plain looking silver band with a really shitty looking fake gem in the middle.  
Dean smiles a little, chuckling as he fishes out 5 dollars, "that one."  
The man hums pleasantly, putting the ring into a small box.  
Dean's distracted all the way to the office.  
He hides the box in his pocket. Even if Castiel's called the wedding off, and he isn't getting the promotion for Dean's sake, Dean's calling the wedding back.  
Unless Castiel's married by the end of the week, which is, quickly approaching as it's already Thursday.  
Dean knows Castiel's bummed out about the promotion, and that he gets snappy every time Anna smirks and walks by his office into the much, much bigger office that might as well be hers. Dean gags at her, making immature faces when he spots her getting a few of the interns to measure the side of the wall for her new desk.  
And all Dean can do is flip her off and assure Castiel everything will be fine.  
But he doesn't tell Castiel about the ring he's hiding.  
Yeah, Dean Winchester's about to propose, Take Two.  
And this time, it's going to work.  
Castiel's surrounded by some employees as they huddle, asking questions about the latest project signed with Brown and co.  
He looks irritated, arms crossed as he stands there, the left lapel of his shirt untucked.  
Dean grins widely, making a beeline towards Castiel, pushing a few people out of the way.  
Castiel raises an eyebrow, "can I help you, Dean?"  
Dean shuffles his feet, almost regretting this but then he sees Castiel, weary eyed and looking like any good news could cheer him up.  
So Dean sinks to one knee, pulling the cheap ring out of his pocket.  
"It's not gold," Dean mumbles, holding out the box to Castiel, who looks surprised and amused.  
"Castiel, please, please marry me.  
I know that we still gotta get to know each other, but yeah. Possibly tomorrow." Dean offers a smile, lifting the ring up to Castiel.  
Cas looks like he's going to burst into laughter, and Dean grins wolfishly.  
Castiel crouches down, holding his left hand out and Dean slides the ring onto his finger deftly.  
They kiss, chaste, since everyone's here, gaping and Dean's pretty sure he could step through Anna's jaw and find China.  
"Yeah, Dean, we can get married." Castiel mutters against to his lips.  
Dean can't help but reach over and stroke Castiel's jaw, tender and sweet despite the amount of employees watching them.  
He can't bring himself to care, however. Because screw them and their opinions on Castiel. Screw them if they think he's a heartless, stone cold man. Because that's wrong, and they don't need to know. As long as Dean knows, and Castiel knows, it's fine, everything's fine.  
He snaps out of his thoughts at Castiel's hand around his wrist.  
"Now, get up before I cut your dick off." 

They get married on the very Friday morning that Anna'll get Castiel's promotion, at exactly 3:45am behind the gates of the Smithsonian. Which of course, isn't open. But it doesn't seem to bother any of them as they slip past the gates, shivering in the cool morning.  
The priest is some guy Charlie plucked from the local African American church, he's actually still in his pajamas.  
Kevin, Jo, Ellen, Chuck, and Charlie are all there in half assed attempts of looking good.  
Kevin's in his Doctor Who t shirt, Jo's hair looks like it's seen better days, Ellen has a bottle of beer in her hand, and Chuck and Charlie almost fall asleep on each other.  
Yet Dean's grinning like a total loser in his batman boxers, and Castiel looks like an adorable cherry, cheeks flush, smiling stupidly in his sweats and Dean's shirt.  
Mary and Sam had left on the Tuesday of that week, since Sammy had school. But Dean had called them, and his mom had squealed and cooed, insisting she offer Dean the most personal advice about safe sex.  
And then Dean had hung up.  
Which of course, sparked Castiel's curiosity and they'd ended up tackled to the ground, Castiel's fingers positioned above his rib cage unless Dean told.  
But here they are, half asleep on each other as they mutter out wedding vows.  
"Do you, uh, Dean Winchester, take Castiel to be your lawfully wedded wife – husband!" The priest blinks awake at his mistake, and Dean laughs, holding Castiel's hands even tighter.  
"I do."  
They're standing in front of some statue, that looks important, and shouldn't be touched. But Jo and Chuck are perched up there, legs swinging as they watch Dean and Cas get married.  
"And do you, Castiel Novak, take Dean to be your lawfully wedded husband?"  
"Yeah, uh, I do." Castiel gazes up at Dean, and then towards the small amount of people they've gathered with them.  
"Then," the priest yawns, " by the power invested in me, I now pronounce you man and uh, wife? Wait, no, man and well, other man." He laughs a bit, "you may kiss the groom." He adds.  
Dean leans over, eyes flickering to Castiel's before he brushes one hand over his jaw.  
"Hey! What are you doing here!" 8 heads snap up to meet the 3 of security guards.  
"Museums closed!" One of them calls, and when Jo sticks her middle finger out, they all frown, "hands in the air, and wait!"  
As if.  
"We got caught!" Dean says cheekily, sliding one hand through Castiel's and they make a break for the gates.  
Giggles and laughter fill the air as they all slip under the gate, easy enough and manage to run another block down the dark, cold street.  
Feet pound against the hard concrete, and at one point, Dean just pushes one hand under Castiel, picking him up bridal style, just because he can.  
They all stop, huffing and puffing out frantic breaths, and even the priest looks amused.  
Dean finally lets Cas down on his wobbly legs, only to find a mild glare and a crimson blush on Castiel's cheeks.  
"So, you wanna kiss?" Charlie pipes up, and Dean smirks, nod giving Castiel a chance to speak before he grabs his waist and gets all up and close in his business.  
"Fuck, you're embarrassing." He hears Castiel murmur, cupping Dean's jaw and they kiss.  
Slow and languid, Dean's hands firmly planted on Cas' hips and Castiel's hands cupping his jaw.  
They pull away breathlessly, smiling through the cold of autumn and just out of the fact that they're married.  
They all part, sharing quick hugs because everyone is so damn tired.  
Castiel does drop a voicemail about his marriage, unable to concentrate with Dean's hand crawling under his sweats on the drive back.  
They barely make it to the apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALL ABOARD THE SS DESTIEL!  
> CRAPPY SMUT AHEAD!!  
> And also idk if the Smithsonian is in NY but idc bc hello this is fiction!


	12. Sexy Sexytimes

Dean’s fingers scramble against the doorknob, pushing it open and tugging Castiel with him. He’s breathless, watching Castiel’s body sway, laughing a bit.  
“Hey, Mr. Winchester,” he murmurs into Castiel’s ear, pulling him close, hands resting on Castiel’s hips.  
“Wanna make sweet, sweet love to me?” Cas replies playfully, wiggling his eyebrows.  
Dean grins wolfishly, nodding enthusiastically.  
He can feel Castiel roll his hips messily, tripping over his feet as he hurries to rid of his shoes. Dean chuckles, reaching for Castiel’s shoes, crouching down and pulling them off easily.  
“There,” he smiles up at Castiel, taking in Castiel’s dark hair, flushed cheeks and pink lips.  
He pulls his body up, hand sliding into Castiel’s and they hurry towards the bedroom.  
“So beautiful, y’know?” Dean brushes a hand over Castiel’s jaw, pushing him down on the bed. He hears Castiel chuckle, and Dean can’t help but grin, throwing his jacket off and crawling up Castiel’s body.  
“Gonna make you feel good, s’gonna be good, promise.” Dean rambles under his breath, taking a look at Castiel’s impatient face.  
There’s a pause, and Dean’s heart rate quickens, dipping down and capturing Castiel’s mouth with his. One hand finds Castiel’s thick hair, tugging at the dark, soft strands.  
Dean’s actually going to do this. There’s a small realization at the back of his mind because this is finally happening. And no one can stop him.  
As if on automatic, Dean grinds his hips down, moving them lazily when Castiel pushes his own up, meeting Dean’s rhythm. His tongue moves languidly against Cas’, sliding into his hot mouth and massaging. There’s a shudder beneath him, and Dean smirks a bit, pulling away and knocking his forehead against Castiel’s.  
He exhales slowly against Cas’ lips, tongue flickering out and tracing Castiel’s. They aren’t in a hurry, they have all day. Dean’s going to make Cas feel so good.  
Slowly, Dean pulls up, fingers scrabbling against the hem of Castiel’s shirt, tugging it off to reveal his body. Castiel’s upper body isn’t build, but firm, all lean muscles and lithe curves. His hips, fuck. Dean’s mouth waters, he’s going to ruin those sharp cuts, _bite, suck, claim._  
Castiel’s hands find Dean’s own shirt, tugging at it insistently until Dean pulls it off. Immediately, he’s pulled into a sloppy kiss, Castiel’s left hand running feverishly down his back.  
Dean’s gut swirls with arousal as he watches Castiel squirm beneath him, stimulated only by their kissing. He grinds down on Cas’ hardening cock, nails digging into his hipbones, holding him in place. Dean growls deep in his throat, dick itching for more of the delicious friction.  
A small whimper leaves Cas’ lips, and Dean inhales shakily, leaning down and kissing Cas roughly, sucking on his bottom lip. The room’s dark, but Dean’s able to find the lube in his bottom drawer.  
Not yet though, he decides, peppering kisses against Castiel’s jaw, grinding steadily, nipping playfully at the junction between Castiel’s neck and jaw. Cas gasps a bit, craning his neck and giving Dean more access.  
“More, yeah?” He says hotly, biting down gently on Castiel’s shoulder, sucking hard, determined to leave a bruise. Cas’ wriggling beneath him, so Dean moves on reluctantly, kissing down Cas’ chest, fingers pinching one nipple and tongue swirling around the other.  
“Dean!” Castiel chokes out, rutting against Dean, and Dean cocks his head to the side, twisting the pink nub between his fingers and scraping his teeth across the other.  
He hums, inching down Cas’ body, stopping to kiss the sensitive skin of Cas’ hipbones. He wants to spend hours _worshipping_ Castiel, finding all his likes and dislikes, pushing him to the edge and pulling him back. He could spend days with Castiel beneath him like this, tan skin blushing gorgeously, bitten lips parted and skin littered with dark bruises from Dean. The small whimpers and moans above him make it all worth it.  
Dean’s teeth bite down at the thin skin, stroking Cas’ left hip soothingly, leaving his mark on the right.  
“Gonna take care of you, I swear, Cas.” Dean pants, index fingers hooking over the waistband of Castiel’s sweats, pulling them down to reveal Cas’ dick, stretching the material of his boxers.  
Dean’s own cock throbs impatiently, pushing against his boxers but he forces himself to be patient, it’s all about Cas today.  
Dean peers up at Castiel, whose head is lolling back, fingers pulling at the short crop of Dean’s blonde hair. Cas’ chest rises and falls with effort, body covered in a sheen of sweat.  
“If you, y-you could just, ah!” Cas moans low, loud and deep when Dean mouths at the base of his cock through the boxers. The material’s already damp, dripping Cas’ precome and Dean inhales, breathing in Cas’ delectable scent and musk.  
Castiel wriggles his hips impatiently, fiddling with the lube bottle, twisting it between his fingers as he lets Dean do whatever he’s doing. The air is thick with the arousal, and when he looks at Dean, he can see his dilated pupils, eyes wide as he pushes down Castiel’s boxers.  
Dean actually has to stop. Stop and stare because Castiel’s naked body is absolutely gorgeous. His cock, long and hard, curved against his stomach. It’s lean and beautiful, cut and flush, slit dripping with slick precome. Dean wants to suck it. He’s never wanted to suck a dick, the thought grosses him out, but Castiel’s clean shaven, and looks undeniably damn _eatable_.  
“Do, do you actually shave?” Dean snickers affectionately, earning a slap to his head.  
“I, I don’t like it messy, o-okay?” Castiel looks embarrassed above him, ears burning a pink and Dean spares him by running a finger over the smooth, delicate muscle.  
“Fucking hot, Cas,” Dean breathes, closing his eyes and kissing Castiel’s flat stomach.  
He’s so damn wrong. So wrong. Castiel’s body might be one of a man, but it’s downright pretty, and it deserves all the care in the world. Cas deserves to be fucking adored, to be held close, and to be made love to. Because he’s stunning, all muscled and lithe, capable of all the flexibility, and that’s the kind of beauty in him.  
But Dean has no time to admire Castiel, not right now, when Castiel’s whining above him, thrusting his hips down helplessly against Dean’s cheek.  
“Calm down,” Dean soothes, running a hand down Castiel’s sides, pushing his legs until his knees bent, and his thighs spread out as far as they can.  
Dean moves lower, sitting up on his knees, gently pulling Cas’ legs up, knees bent against Dean’s shoulders.  
“Gonna eat you out.” He bites back a moan, drinking in the sight of Castiel’s pretty pink hole.  
He moves his head down, fingers digging into Cas’ ass, pulling his smooth ass cheeks apart, giving Cas’ hole a tentative lick.  
There’s a reaction immediately, Cas’ hole clenches on impulse, calves tightening around Dean’s neck.  
“Fuck,” Cas jerks his hips, and Dean stops, holding his hip down with one hand, thrusting his tongue deeper, past the ring of muscles, stroking at Castiel’s silken walls. He tastes delicious, and Dean presses his lips down against the rim, and _sucks_.  
Castiel writhes above him, hips stuttering violently, thighs trembling.  
 _“Dean, oh, oh god, Dean, fuck, Jesus Christ, fuck!”_

The string of curses grows longer and Dean’s laugh vibrates through Cas’ hole, sending buzzing bolts of pleasure up his spine.

Dean’s hand move from Cas’ hip, running it up and down his quivering thighs. Finally, he pulls away, nudging at Castiel’s hip until the lube is tossed towards him.  
“S’gonna feel weird.” Dean warns easily, coating his three fingers with lube, warming it between his fingertips.  
“Dean, you are weird,” Cas points out, breathing raggedly above Dean. Dean just laughs, sliding one finger into Cas’ ass. He takes it easily enough, swallowing Dean’s second finger into a warm, velvety heat. He scissors his fingers, pressing in and out. His third finger works into Castiel’s hole, and barely grazes his prostrate. Castiel jolts, shoving his hips into Dean’s fingers, crying out. Dean’s smile grows, almost predatory, watching Cas reach for his cock desperately.  
“Cas, baby, almost there.” Dean purrs, finally taking a moment to remove his fingers and wriggle out of his boxers. Finally.  
It’s a little hard, but Dean manages to move off of Cas long enough to grab the condom, ripping the foil packet and rolling it over his dick.  
Dean pushes Castiel’s legs off of his shoulders, drizzling a good amount of lubricant into his hand, palming himself. He throws his head back a little, eyes shut at the dizzying sensation, getting a generous amount of lube all over his cock.  
With Cas on his back, legs spread wide open, Dean guides his dick towards Cas’ arse, pushing the tip in every so slightly. Ever so slowly, Dean fists his shaft, gently pushing all the way in before bottoming out.  
He grunts, nails digging into Castiel’s hips, holding on as he waits for Cas to adjust.  
“Dean, fuck, I’m aging just waiting for you.” Castiel keens, shifting his hips, getting comfortable. Dean lets out a strained laugh, taking in the wet, hot heat of Cas’ hole, clenching around his own dick in such a fucking lovely way.  
“Cas, shut up or I’m gonna drag this out till Christmas,” Dean threatens, hissing a bit as he slowly pulls, and then pushes back in.  
Cas’ words die in his throat as Dean thrusts. Slowly, after a few, the thrusts become shallow, pulling out and jarring back against Castiel’s prostrate, leaving him breathless and whimpering.  
 _“D-Dean, c’mon, faster!”_ He hiccups, using both hands to hold his knees up to his chest, giving Dean a better angle.  
Dean complies happily, ramming back into Cas’ hole, until only the sound of skin slapping against skin, and cries and grunts dissipate into the room.  
Cas eventually lets his legs go, wrapping them tightly around Dean’s waist, back arching into a nimble curve, blunt nails raking across Dean’s back, scrambling for purchase.  
Dean rolls his hips sensually, creating a rhythm, slamming into Cas, hips stuttering as he lunges to Cas’ neck, licking and biting like crazy. His skin is soft and salty, it makes Dean ravenous. His hips snap harshly, growling at the stinging in his back.  
Castiel rocks back against Dean’s thrusts, sobbing his name like a prayer.  
“Dean, ah! Dean, fuck!” He mewls, breathing fast and uneven.  
Pleasure rips through him in fiery waves, buzzing through his body, ears throbbing with blood. Everything’s so good, Dean’s cock pounding against his prostrate.  
It isn’t long before Dean’s coming, rhythm long forgotten as he chases his orgasm, vision blinded by hot white light, come pulsing through Cas.  
Dean works through his orgasm, one hand reaching out and tugging at Castiel’s cock, thrusting lazily, thumbing at his weeping slit.  
“Come on, come for me,” Dean urges, panting out a breath.  
 _“Shit, D-Dean! Fuck, Dean!”_  
Castiel comes within seconds, ears ringing and he stills, moaning deep from his chest, splattering over his own chest and Dean’s.  
The post orgasm haze settles like a thick cloud, the smell of sweat and sex lingering in the air. Dean slumps over Cas’ limp body, breathing hot and irregular against his sweaty neck.  
They don’t say anything for a while, Cas’ fingers running through Dean’s hair until Dean apologetically moves from the warm embrace, getting rid of the condom before relaxing back into Cas’ touch.  
“Shower?” Cas suggests, voice thick with exhaustion. Yet he moves a little, fidgeting, until Dean moves.  
“Fine, you go ahead, I’ll go after you.” Dean replies sleepily heaving his naked body off of Cas. Castiel slips between him, and Dean smirks, giving his ass a teasing slap.  
Cas twists around, glaring at Dean with a small huff, causing Dean to chuckle.  
Dean cleans as much of Cas’ come off of his chest with Cas’ shirt, throwing the clothes into the hamper before changing the sheets. He smiles dopily, Cas’ married him, and not just because of the promotion. And Dean successfully fucked his boss into the mattress.  
Cas comes out, towel wrapped around his waist as he finds a pair of clean boxers and Dean’s university sweatshirt.  
Dean knows he can tell Castiel off, and make him move out, especially when he’d gotten the call a few days ago, telling him it was okay to go back to his apartment. But he doesn’t, because Cas looks so fucking impressive, sharp collarbones peeking out of the neckline, the sweatshirt hangs loose, boxers resting carelessly against the juts of his hipbones. And he loves how Castiel sleeps with him. How he’s only been here for a week, yet his stale cologne and scent mark all of Dean’s pillows and sheets. It makes Dean smile for hours, doing random things with a stupid smile.  
“Gonna go shower,” he informs Cas, who throws himself on the bed, snuggling close to the pillows.  
“Come back soon, Dean.” He hears Cas say, voice muffled by the pillow.  
And he _does._  
He showers, throwing on a pair of boxers and slotting himself behind Cas, holding him tightly.  
Because he isn’t going to let go, not now, not ever.  
Not when he has something this precious, something this beautiful.  
And that’s the advantage of being in love.  
It’s the _beauty_ of it.  
And Dean isn’t going to give it up.  
 _Not now, not ever._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! This is the end my friends! I'm so glad you all were there with me, on this amazing journey. After writing this fanfic, I've learnt a lot, and maybe I might go back and edit it, maybe even get someone to beta it. As of now, I'm really proud and I might write an epilogue, so stay tuned my beauties ;* I love you all, thanks so much for laughing, snorting, cringing, and cooing with me throughout the book!!


	13. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short epilogue to tie things together. Maybe I'll start a collection of drabbles in the life of Dean and Castiel Winchester? Hmmmmmm.

Dean’s fingers move rapidly on his keyboard as he struggles to type up the rest of the report. Cas said he’d get the day off, and he isn’t willing to let that slide because he’s lazy.

“I’m almost done!” He cheers, glancing up to Cas, who’s sitting on his desk chair, glasses perched on his pointed nose. He looks up and Dean shoots him a smile.

“Good, you’ll need the time if you’re going cook dinner.” Cas says, going back to his papers.

Dean groans from his spot on the secretary desk.

“But you sai-”

“I said nothing, Dean. I made the dinner last time.” Cas insists, looking up momentarily.

Dean huffs. His husband is a pain in the ass. Of course he loves Castiel. Even went through the trouble of making him a Winchester. It’s been 4 months since they got married, 4 months since Castiel got his promotion. He’d went through all ends to make sure Dean got the position of being his secretary. Everything was great. Cas’d finally moved out of his condo, moving into Dean’s not so large apartment. Of course, their relationship wasn’t like every other office relationship.

Dean made his boss beg. As it turns out, Cas was a total whore for Dean’s words, and although it seemed as if Cas was the boss to everyone else, in the end, it was Dean’s pleasure of turning Castiel into a filthy mess.

Of course, no one knew, and Cas had threatened to chop Dean’s sac off countless times if he dared to tell a single soul about Cas taking it up the ass. He liked their friends thinking it was _Dean’s_ ass that was sore the next morning.

“You didn’t make dinner, you went to the diner and picked up burgers and milkshakes.” Dean objects, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Ah, but I can’t cook, Dean.” Cas chuckles, taking his glasses off and easing back into his chair.

“So you cheated!”

“I didn’t cheat.” Cas pauses, “I simply made a very calculated move on behalf of the fact that it was my turn to make dinner.”

Dean rolls his eyes.

“Sorry, I don’t understand the fancy words, jerk,” he points out and Cas glares.

“Dean you’re making dinner.” He says firmly and Dean has no choice but to nod sullenly. If he doesn’t make dinner, he knows what will happen. No sex for a month or something equally horrifying. Last time, he’d forgotten to do the laundry, causing Cas to go to work in Dean’s dress pants and white shirt. The clothes were bigger. Dean did work out. He seemed to fit into his clothes better than Cas. Which made sense, because in the end, they were his clothes. But Cas, who did nothing more than 30 minutes on the treadmill every other way, and ate like it was his last night, was still too small for the clothes.

And of course, it hadn’t stopped Charlie and Jo from bursting into fits of giggles when a very grumpy Castiel had walked into the office, pouting and glaring with eyes that would murder. Needless to say, Dean didn’t get laid for a month. Which was horrible because Dean needs to fuck Cas probably more than he needs air. They’d tried once. Letting Cas top for once. But fuck the feeling was something Dean could’ve lived _without_. Foreplay he’d enjoyed, the fingers up his ass? Not so much. They were weird, uncomfortable and awkward. Cas had tried to make Dean feel good, but he’d ended up more nervous than Dean. Dean remembers Cas pulling his long, skinny fingers out of Dean’s ass, confused look on his face as if he’d done something wrong. Dean had assured him everything was fine, and everything was, up until Cas stuck his dick inside Dean. It was a feeling he couldn’t forget soon enough. It felt _wrong_ , almost intruding but it hadn’t hurt. Dean had frowned, and told Castiel that he didn’t want a dick up his ass. Cas looked guilty, like he’d made Dean’s first time bottoming uncomfortable.

And Dean’d fucked that feeling out of Cas, whispering and cooing sweet things so Cas’ emotions weren’t so guilty. He isn’t that kind of a person. To cuddle and sweet talk. But it was Cas, and Dean supposes he’s willing to do that every second of his lifetime if it makes Cas happier. That was a feeling he _couldn’t_ live without.

That was a feeling that had felt _right_.

Here he is now. He’s hoping that if he makes dinner, Cas’ll come home with pie later. Or covered in pie. That seems a bit more like what he wants.

“Fine, but you’re doing something for dessert.” He smirks, and Cas flushes. Dean doesn’t say more as he types up the rest of the report. They aren’t interrupted again until Anna walks into the office.

“Mr. Winchester?” She says and Dean looks up, simultaneous to Cas, whose head snaps up as well.

“Yes?” They both say in union, and it should be creepy, but it makes Dean’s heart swell. Castiel actually considers himself a Winchester.

Anna looks at them slightly surprised and uncomfortable, “uh, just Mr. Novak.” She corrects and Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes again.

 _‘It’s Winchester, bitch, not Novak.’_ He thinks to himself.

Anna heads over to Cas’ desk, and Dean tries not to peek, but just watches from the corner of his eye. Once she leaves, Dean can’t stop himself from bee lining towards Castiel’s desk. He looks worried.

“Something wrong?” He murmurs, crouching down until he’s looking up at Cas. Cas looks down, entwining Dean’s hands with his as he leans down.

“Company’s losing profits, the construction workers won’t hire.” He states with a frown. Dean nods thoughtfully, “it’ll work out.”

Cas is slow to reply. “Yeah…”

Dean shakes his head, he doesn’t want Cas to be sad right now. So he tugs on Castiel’s fingers until he stands up.

“Look at me,” Dean orders gently when Cas looks away, unable to meet his gaze. He cups Cas’ jaw, forcing his eyes to lock with Dean’s.

“It’ll be fine.” He promises, kissing Cas’ forehead.

“I hope so,” Cas replies tiredly, leaning up to kiss Dean.

They pull away after a while, and Dean doesn’t really want to let Cas go. Not right now.

“Hey, I’m going home now, but I promise, dinner will be good.” He grins, teeth and all, kissing Cas once more. He’s pretty sure he’s addicted to Cas’ mouth. He’s probably addicted to Castiel Winchester all together.

It puts a smile on Cas’ face, and Dean counts it as a win.

“I’ll be home in a few hours.” Cas calls as Dean leaves the office.

Dean smiles like a total idiot, laughing a little.

“Bring some pie!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hopefully this fanfic wasn't like the movie, i tried really hard to alter many parts of it ;*


End file.
